


My Regrets Are Few

by LaLainaJ



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Allusions to sex with people who are not Klaus and Caroline, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kinda Cause It's Messy, Not Alaric Friendly Either, Not Damon Friendly, Off Brand Smut, Playing with Canon, Smut, Torture, original!caroline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: When tales of a new doppelgänger reach Klaus and Caroline they're pleased. They send an emmissary, hoping a mutually beneficial relationship can be established. Unfortunately, that's not to be, not with the company she'd been keeping. They find themselves making the trip to Mystic Falls.Petrovas are always such a nuisance.





	My Regrets Are Few

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelikah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelikah/gifts).



> For Angie, our delightful smut fairy. I don't write you nearly enough things and I hope you like this. Becuase you deserve ALL OF THE THINGS.

**My Regrets Are Few**

 

It’s early when the call comes in. Klaus is ensconced in the den of the flat he’d purloined from a wealthy Wall Street type. He’d taken an unexpected vacation and Klaus had the run of his place. The den has the best view of the city though at the moment the sky outside the floor to ceiling windows is more dark than light.

Had Caroline been with him when the phone had rung she’d have still been abed. She would have dived deeper into the pillows and would have vowed to visit death and dismemberment upon the person who had dared to awaken her before the sun was fully out.

It’s an old quirk, one he’s sure will never change.

Even a thousand years ago she’d stumbled from her bed reluctantly, out of necessity. He’d learned in the early days of their marriage, when they’d still been shy and unsure, that attempting to speak to her while she was still half asleep, and displeased about it the _half_ part, was usually a mistake.

Klaus didn’t mind the interruption in the least. He hadn’t been doing anything of great import and he mostly gives up on the pretense of sleeping when Caroline is absent, only catching scant hours as he needs them. Lately he’s grown increasingly restless, obsessively tracking Caroline’s location through the app on his phone, demanding affirmations of her safety from the contingent of hybrid guards that accompany her.

He’d been sketching semi-comfortably ( _semi_ because the furniture was atrocious – all odd angles and stiff edges). Klaus tosses his sketchbook aside eagerly once he sees the caller’s name. This is a call he’s been waiting for.  “Ah, Gideon. I trust you’re finding Mystic Falls welcoming?”

The long pause that follows, the uncertainty that lingers below it, sets Klaus’ teeth on edge.

He does his best to wait patiently. Caroline often accused him of being excessively paranoid (rolling her eyes when Klaus countered that he was just the perfect amount of paranoid) and there was no need to get immediately alarmed if a simple fact finding mission had hit a snag.

Humans were often tetchy about privacy these days and though they’d gleaned a great deal of information through the doppelgängers various social media accounts perhaps she was more leery of strangers in person. Gideon was the non-threatening sort, the main reason why he’d been sent to be the face of this particular mission.

That and he’d proven himself loyal and competent.

 He’d been with them for the close to two centuries, turned with the blood of the Silas doppelgänger they’d tracked down in 1732. He was also the direct sort, and it was his hesitance that was fueling Klaus’ apprehension. “We’ve sighted the doppelgänger,” Gideon eventually begins. “And, I’m sorry to say, this one will be more complicated than the last.”

And their plans had been progressing _so_ nicely.

“Explain,” Klaus demands.

To Gideon’s credit his voice doesn’t falter, there’s no hint of nerves. “The last time, the family we were dealing with, hadn’t the slightest inkling that the world was anything but mundane, not the faintest idea that things other than humans existed. Mrs. Avery was a nurse, so it was easy enough to spin a story about her son’s special blood. She signed off on his regular donations, convinced the trial’s we invented were doing potentially life-saving work. She never looked into them more deeply because we compelled her not to. Tom grew up to be the do-gooder type, and so he’s willingly kept it up and he’s always enjoyed the checks that come along every time he fills up a blood bag. We’ve discretely stationed hybrids who have kept him safe for the last twelve years and the interested covens are far from his orbit.”

Klaus makes an impatient noise, his fingers tightening dangerously on his phone, “All things I’m well aware of. Feel free to begin imparting information I _don’t_ know at any time, Gideon.”

The recitation hastens at the warning, “This girl’s not so blind. She’s got a vampire boyfriend. A second vampire sniffing around. Her best friend is a witch, her guardian is dating a washed up hunter. And there’s vervain in the town water supply so, in this case, the human authorities aren’t completely ignorant either. I snuck into the hospital last night, pulled some odd things. There’s a doctor here doing experiments using vampire blood.”

Well, that was just lovely.

Klaus suppresses a sigh, letting his head roll as he considers Gideon’s words. Were these obstacles irritating? Obviously. _But_ they were not insurmountable. It was unfortunate he and Caroline would have to make an appearance in Mystic Falls personally (Caroline particularly would be less than thrilled, had hinted that since she was meeting Klaus in New York anyway they should take advantage of the sights). Klaus would just have to plan a more exciting destination for afterwards. Perhaps Paris.

It was unlikely that clearing away the problems Gideon had set out would be _too_ time consuming. Klaus makes a mental note have to get a hybrid to gather some supplies just in case they needed to stage an explosion or two. On the off chance that face to face negotiations went badly. Klaus makes an effort to keep his tone gentle. Caroline was forever after him to be nicer to the help. “That _is_ quite the list of complications. Do we know the vampires?”

“I recognized the boyfriend immediately. It’s The Ripper.”

Now _that_ was a surprise. Klaus straightens, his interest piqued. He’d enjoyed The Ripper’s company once upon a time but he be a fool to want someone who killed so indiscriminately anywhere near his doppelgänger. “You’re telling me the Ripper is playing doting boyfriend to a human girl?” Klaus wondered if he had grown bored with his usual antics, invented new game.

“He certainly seems devoted and the girl shows no signs of injury.”

“He must be the reason for the vervain. In a town that small a pile of mutilated bodies would be hard to hide.”

Again, Gideon offers a surprising correction. “That can’t be what’s set them off. He’s not killing. Not humans, at least. I’ve scoured the papers. There have been no disappearances in town. Nothing in the surrounding areas either. The doppelgänger wears a vervain necklace so she couldn’t be compelled even if the water wasn’t dosed. Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf?”

Doubtful, Klaus thought. Hunting humans had been Stefan Salvatore’s favorite pastime. At least the idea that he could maintain whatever façade he was attempting. The kind of blood lust that had consumed him could never be overcome. Perhaps he could control it, for a time. But The Ripper would always slip out.

He has a faint recollection of the stories the Travelers he and Caroline had tracked down over the years had spouted. Various sorts of drivel about soulmates, tales of a kind of magic that bound the two doppelgänger lines together. Klaus hadn’t put any stock into it at the time. Perhaps he’d been hasty. “What about the witch? Is there a coven?”

If Gideon thinks the abrupt subject change odd he doesn’t comment. “Just two that I’ve seen. The friend, who’s _very_ green, and the grandmother who isn’t. I haven’t wanted to risk giving myself away by getting too close. Their last name’s Bennett. Isn’t that...”

“The surname of the witch who locked my father away? Yes,” Klaus spits. Was there no _end_ to these complications? Klaus rises, begins to pace. He had no desire to spend significant time in Mystic Falls. It was barely more than a village and surely filled with idiots.

“So you know them?” Gideon ventures.

“Not personally,” Klaus replies, clipped and tense. “Not for a _very_ long time.”

Ayana had always treated him more coldly than she had his siblings. At the time Klaus had attributed her iciness to his comparably weak magic though later he’d realized she must have been aware of his werewolf ancestry and wary of the danger of having him in the village. He’d never killed as a human but the world had been a different place then, the possibility that he might have had to – to defend his home, his wife – had been present. “They’re very powerful and firmly convinced that vampires should be wiped out of existence. Their goals and Mikael’s often align nicely; it’s only my dear old father’s lack of concern for collateral damage that put them at odds.”

“Ah,” Gideon murmurs. “So they’re not the sort of witches we can bargain with then?”

Klaus makes a short noise of affirmation and Gideon wisely falls silent for a time, staying alert and attentive on the line.

Klaus has _never_ been one to hope for the best. He works to ensure the favorable outcomes, controls each and every variable that he can, _always_ has the contingencies covered. Things had been going so well lately, few hiccups and no catastrophes, that he genuinely had not anticipated their plans potentially grinding to a halt in this manner. Either he’d absorbed something of Caroline’s optimistic tendencies or he’d been lulled by the ease at which the other line of doppelgangers had been collected and utilized.

He should have realized that the first Petrova in half a century would be just as troublesome as the last.

Klaus had broken his curse when Katerina had been human. She’d woken up after he’d completed the ritual, thanks to Elijah’s soft heart and deep infatuation.  At the time Klaus had been feeling generous, high off his first run as a wolf. Upon finding that she still lived he had ordered that she be kept on the estate, safe and sound in case she was needed.

Klaus and Caroline had left, Kol in tow, and searched out werewolf packs. It had taken months to find a group; they were well hidden, far from what passed as a major hub in those days. The initial jubilation had turned to frustration, then to anger as their run of successes ground to a halt. Over and over, each trial had failed, with nothing but a pile of bodies needing burial to show for the attempt.

Hybrids had always been the goal. Klaus had never even considered the possibility that he would fail.

It became obvious that they were missing a crucial ingredient, and it had been Kol’s suggestion to go back to their mother’s grimoires. When they’d gone back to retrieve them, and the doppelgänger, she’d been gone, this time _without_ Elijah’s help. It seemed she’d managed to bend some weak ears, earn herself some sympathy, and make a great escape. Klaus’ temper, never precisely _even_ , had been near untamable with his newly unlocked werewolf side at the forefront.

They’d made great haste to get to Bulgaria though no hint of a trial pointed that way. He’d torn through Katerina’s village without mercy, not caring if the blood he spilt was kin or neighbor. He’d not noted anything odd but Caroline had. It had been she who’d noted the desperate whispers, parsed the language and discovered the villagers furiously plotting to save one man.

Curious, because how could a single man earn such devotion from so many, she’d plucked one of the elders out of Klaus’ path, applied the appropriate pressure and gotten an interesting tidbit of information.

Doppelgängers were not as rare as Klaus had always been led to believe.

It’s an incident Caroline holds over his head to this day, one she trots out when she feels as though he’s being overbearing, and Klaus supposes she deserves to. Not that he’d ever say so.

What he’d known of doppelgängers had been gleaned from his mother’s grimoires. Either Esther had only been entrusted with knowledge of the one line or, the option Klaus thought more likely, she’d thought it too dangerous to commit the fact that there was a second to paper. He didn’t like to credit her with much but few could thwart him from beyond the grave.

Caroline had found the man just before he’d managed to slip away. They’d bled the vervain from his system, learned his story. His name had been Ivan and he’d been at least twice Katerina’s age. That hadn’t stopped him from fancying himself in love with the girl (and neither had the wife or his existing sons). Katerina had been cast out, sent away, her child left to Ivan and his wife to raise as their own. Caroline had concluded at the time, her distaste clear, that he was merely weak (as many humans were) and not totally lacking in honor. He’d been fearful when brought to Klaus, reeking of it, though he’d done his best to present a brave face.

Klaus had been skeptical, looking for the trick. People would say crazy things to save themselves, he’d been convinced that the idea that another line was preposterous though he’d dutifully listened to Caroline’s reasoning. He rather liked sharing a tent, after all, had no doubt Caroline _would_ attempt to banish him from it if he were to disregard her thoughts completely. It had been easy to accept Katerina what Katerina was. He’d known Tatia, had marveled at her perfect copy in Katerina’s features. He’d never seen Ivan, or _his_ likeness, before. Klaus had been leery, had insisted that there was some greater plot afoot.

They’d had quite the row, his stubbornness clashing with hers in shouts and creative insults. Caroline had eventually managed a win by pointing out that there was no harm in _trying_ , that Klaus was welcome to vent his rage however he wished should their next attempts fail.

She’s also promised a favor if she was wrong, had been flirty and coy as she'd stroked his necklaces as she told him she’d do _anything_ he wanted.

And so Klaus had agreed to another trial. They’d taken Ivan with them and gone on to hunt up another werewolf.

Caroline has often lamented the fact that cameras hadn’t become portable until much, much later. She insists that the look on his face when the first hybrid had awoken is one she’ll never forget.

 After their success, Ivan’s cooperation had been easily ensured; his children’s lives a perfect bargaining chip. He’d aged, died, though many years later than most men of his time thanks to their vested interest in his health.

His face became familiar and familiar it remains. Another one shows up every 130 years or so, always young in the beginning, like clockwork.

So much more efficient than the Petrovas.

Stefan’s the only one that Klaus hadn’t gotten to first. Katerina had turned him, rendered him completely useless. It’s another black mark on her ledger, something she’ll one day pay for.

He’d made a misstep then, had relied on informants too heavily. He would not repeat the same mistake, hence why he and Caroline would be going to Mystic Falls without delay. And to think _this_ portion of the plan was _supposed_ to have been easy. Finding werewolves was always tricky, as rare and secretive as they were. Finally dealing with Mikael was where they’d always assumed it would get risky.

Klaus clears his thoughts, forces himself to focus on the immediate problems at hand and consider actions. He _could_ just go in and snatch the doppelgänger. Bennett witches and a pair of relatively young vampires _could_ be overcome without much fuss. They could drain her after killing the various obstacles that surrounded her and suspend the policy on only turning werewolves that were willing since the blood had a shelf life.

While that was likely the simplest solution it did present some complications. Klaus had always intended to awaken Rebekah, and the rest of his siblings, once Mikael was permanently dealt with. He’d known that, since it would be like no time had passed for his sister, she’d be set on finding Stefan once she was back amongst the living. He’d figured offering his assistance would help smooth away her ire at him.  If Klaus killed Stefan now he’d need to find other means of distraction _and_ make certain Rebekah would never know Klaus had killed yet another of her paramours.

More practically, while the doppelgängers blood _should_ make enough hybrids to fill out his forces, leaving Klaus with an army large enough to _finally_ take out his dear father, using it all in one go could leave them vulnerable later. Tom Avery would still be alive, tucked away in Atlanta. They _would_ be able to make more hybrids when it came time to deal with the wave of enemies that would come out of the woodwork once Mikael was dead but would they be able to make _enough_?

Many, _many_ , vampires and witches, even the odd werewolf, were relying on Mikael to do their dirty work.

Klaus had always thought that having _two_ doppelgängers, alive and continuously making more blood, was the ideal scenario. The human body was inefficient and frail, could only produce so much blood, and could spare a paltry amount. If the newest doppelgänger was dead they had to be careful not to take too much from Tom. They’d have to wait nearly a _century_ for the next. The hybrids were difficult to kill, but not impossible for vampires with some age to them, like most of those who’d happily see Klaus and Caroline and the rest of their family roasting over a spit. He and Caroline had been waiting for this convergence, the insurance provided by having _both_ doppelgänger lines at their disposal, ever since they’d unraveled the story from the remains of Katerina’s family.

Killing the Bennett witches would also be a gamble without knowing just how connected they were, if there were more of them just out of Gideon’s sight. Courting a grudge with a powerful line of witches would be foolish; such an action would play right into his enemy’s hands.

Eventually Gideon clears his throat, his reluctance palpable, “There are two more things you should know.”

Of _course_ there was more. Hadn’t he just been berating himself for his uncharacteristic optimism? “Just two?” Klaus remarks dryly. “Honestly, given our current run of luck I expected more.”

“I’ve spotted Katerina. She was dressed up like the doppelgänger, trying to blend in, but it’s easy enough to tell them apart if you know what you’re looking for.”

He’d anticipated that. Still, the confirmation that the scheming little nuisance already had eyes on the doppelgänger was less than welcome. She’d been boastful and smug in an encounter with Caroline not two weeks ago, though smart enough not to get into the specifics of her machinations. “I imagine Katerina’s distaste for anything found at a local shopping mall would be easily seen,” Klaus replies.

“And finally, I think your brother’s been lurking. I haven’t seen him but I’m sure I caught a trace of his scent in the bar. _And_ there was a pair of drunken women who seemed to be discussing someone who matched his description.”

“Oh? I wonder what he could have done that was of such note. Let me guess, did he demand a cleaner glass? Perhaps reprimand the bar’s patrons for speaking above a low murmur and disturbing his delicate sensibilities?”

“They were discussing how best to remove a dark haired man’s, and I quote, ‘James Bond suit’. _Without_ using their hands.”

Well, at least _that_ was a little amusing. “Honestly Elijah would be far more bearable if he indulged such offers more regularly.” Gideon remains silent and Klaus resumes pacing, “I don’t suppose there’s any _good_ news out of that dreadful little town?”

“Actually, there might be. There are at least two werewolves here, and no evidence of a pack.”

Not exactly a pot of gold but possibly useful. Perhaps Mystic Falls wouldn’t be an _absolute_ waste of time and resources. Klaus lets himself fall back onto the sofa, grunting out a curse when the arm jabs him in the side. “Hold your position,” he instructs. “If anything alarming happens get word to me _immediately_. And send me all the info you’ve gathered so far. I’ll go over it and call you in the morning.”

Probably after a lie in given Caroline was arriving within the hour. A proper welcome home was the thoughtful thing to do.

Gideon’s faint sound of amusement is quickly cut off though he is slightly more relaxed when he signs off, “Sure thing, boss. Tell Caroline I say hello.”

He’s wise enough to disconnect before Klaus can comment on the impertinence.

He returns to his sketching after double checking Caroline’s ETA. He might have even managed to calm, to begin turning things over in his mind in a reasonable, _logical_ manner.

Except a second call had comes in, not ten minutes later, with news more alarming.

Katerina Petrova and an unknown male were sniffing around North Carolina, comes the rushed report. Was she to be engaged or should they let her find Mikael?

Klaus bites out an order to watch closely but to not interfere. A hybrid ventures in, asking Klaus if he needs anything. He’s ordered to leave, and does so hastily, intelligent enough to know where he’d not safe. Klaus then turns his attention towards attempting to vent his rage.

The awful sofa is the first victim.

He supposes it’s a lucky thing Caroline will hate the borrowed flat. She’ll not care to spin any exasperated lectures when she arrives to see that he’s destroyed it. A good thing, because they don’t have nearly as much time as Klaus had anticipated.

Klaus has _very_ specific plans for the moments they’ll be able to steal before they have to get to work.

* * *

The hybrid flinches when the elevator doors slide open and the soothing music that had played inside the car is immediately drowned out by the cacophony of shattering glass.

Caroline sighs, tossing her hair back and squaring her shoulders. She’s not sure who owns this place but, if they somehow managed to avoid becoming a meal, waking up from their heavily compelled stupor was going to come with some unpleasant surprises. The walls are well constructed and she’d bet that the brand new apartments Klaus had commandeered came with hefty price tags, but her ears are sensitive enough to pick up the sounds of destruction.

 _Lots_ of destruction.

Exiting the elevator Caroline’s strides are quick, her eagerness growing despite the situation she’s walking in to. The hybrids fall behind and she can hear the slight acceleration of their heartbeats. She doesn’t begrudge them their fear, or their attempts to hide behind her, despite the fact that they’re supposed to be _her_ guards. She was just about the only person who could withstand Klaus’ rage and walk away unscathed.

The hybrids, however, were occasionally lucky that their limbs could be regrown.

Klaus might have learned that treating the hybrids as disposable was counterintuitive, just about the worst way to earn the loyalty he craved. The stories of how callous he _used_ to be lingered, how none of the first group of hybrids had survived, were whispered about in werewolf packs as a warning. Not that they bothered to recruit much from packs these days having found those bonds too difficult to overcome. Lone wolves and cast outs, those struggling with turning and having to hide it, were easier to sway.

She hears a shaky breath indrawn as they near the end of the corridor and the noise intensifies. The glass is the least of it. Caroline picks up the splintering of wood, the thuds and smacks of objects hitting solid walls, the occasional rip of a heavy piece of fabric.

Klaus has always preferred to clear his head with a little chaos.

 Caroline had known what she’d be walking into. She’d been warned by the hybrid who’d met them at the airport, one of the newest batch, still timid and prone to speaking with his gaze fixed firmly on his shoes. Haltingly he’d managed to tell her that that her husband was in a _mood_. He’d had no idea as to the source of Klaus’ displeasure and the texts Caroline’s had sent during the drive across the city had gone unanswered. She’d narrowly managed to avoid crushing her phone, tucking it carefully into her bag and settling in to wait impatiently. Whatever setback they had to deal with was ill timed and Caroline couldn’t help but be peeved. She’s been gone for close to eight weeks, was a warmer greeting too much to ask for? Her trip had been fruitful and she’d been eager to tell Klaus her findings.

It had surprised Caroline just how keenly she’d felt the loss of Klaus’ company. Mikael had been entombed for more than twenty years and they’d been together for the entirety of it. Before that, over the centuries he’d been free and relentlessly pursuing them, she and Klaus had sometimes had to go their separate ways. Months, years, once an entire decade, they’d spent apart. With no way to communicate as easily as they did now. Maybe the immediate danger had distracted her from her loneliness then, the knowledge that she had to stay sharp to survive, but she’d never been more conscious of the distance that separated her from him than she had been over the last two months.

It had been worth it. They were so close to being _free_.

One of the hybrids hastens to open the door for her, and she offers him a brief smile of thanks. There’s a small hitch in the noise, a pause, and Caroline cheerfully calls, “Honey, I’m home!”

Was it prudent to use a saccharine pet name right now knowing how deeply Klaus loathed them? Probably not. But there was something to be said for living dangerously.

She wrinkles her nose as she surveys the room. There’s not much of it left but maybe that’s a blessing. She sees a lot of chrome and white, the sort of ultra-modern sleekness that wealthy humans prided themselves on that had always read as boring to Caroline. She and Klaus have rarely been able to settle, to enjoy any of the objects and art they’ve accumulated throughout the years and, and Caroline was very much looking forward to the day when she _could_. She’d gotten into the habit of storing things she loved lest she have to leave them behind, never to be seen (or worn, or used) again if Mikael surprised them and they had to flee. To be able to spread out, to have the time to make a home her own, without having to look over her shoulder, would be a dream come true.

She hears Klaus’ footsteps, and whirls. The set of his shoulders is tense and but his eyes trace over her form greedily, as they always do. She lets him look, knows he needs it to assure himself that she’s returned completely unscathed. She slowly strips her jacket off, enjoys way Klaus straightens, the slight involuntary twitch his fingertips make as her skin is revealed. A hybrid takes it from her, swiftly retreating. Caroline cocks her head to the side and resists the urge to launch herself at Klaus. His sleeves are pushed up, flecks of debris decorating his charcoal Henley and he looks _good_. “ _Please_ tell me these people have better taste in liquor than they do in décor. And that you didn’t trash it all. I think I deserve a drink if we’re going to have to postpone our hot reunion sex to deal with whatever crisis has you in a snit.”

There’s a split second of hesitation before a smile curls his lips. He speeds over to her and Caroline’s laughing as he pins her against a wall, her thighs wrapped around his hips. She runs her hands across his shoulders, slides one into his hair, “Ah, so you did miss me,” she teases. “I’d wondered.”

Klaus has his face pressed into her throat, and his blunt teeth sinking into her skin is a reprimand, “I believe our phone conversations have indicated just how much I’ve missed you, love.”

His hips press into hers, hands slipping under her top, and Caroline shivers. The last time they’d spoken he’d talked her to the brink, had her tease herself nice and slow while he spun fantasies that were her favorite kind of lewd. He’d demanded she stop when she’d been _so_ close, body drawn tight and dripping onto the hotel’s sheets. Mindless with need, she’d begged to come but he’d held firm, his suggestion that she consider it an incentive a taunt. Caroline had been so tempted to ignore him, had known it would only take a few more strokes of her fingers on her clit to send her over. That she’d probably like whatever punishment he came up with later. Klaus’ gravelly promise to make it up to her had been the only thing that had stilled her. She’d listened to his unsteady breathing as her body had calmed, squirmed through the new tremors of arousal his rough praise had inspired.  She swallows, attempts to sound breezy, “Well, with the lack of welcome you can’t blame a girl for her doubts.”

His low noise rumbles through where they’re pressed together and Caroline faintly registers the hybrids making hasty exits just before her top hits the floor. Klaus yanks her strapless bra to her waist, his lips dropping to trace the curve of her breast. The faint brush of heat has her back arching, skin hungry for more contact, but Klaus pulls back, a too innocent expression on his face. “Perhaps you’ve a point and I’ve been remiss. Are you hungry? Tired? Would you like to freshen up after your flight?”

She tightens her grip on him before he can even think to disengage, using the hand in his hair to tug his mouth to hers. She kisses him hungrily, and Klaus meets the wet slide of her tongue with a groan, grinding his hardening cock into her. She pulls back with a sigh when he palms her breast, trapping her tightening nipple between two fingers. His mouth goes to her throat and she moans when he sucks and squeezes simultaneously, clawing at his shirt until it rips, before tracing down his chest and stomach, intent on his belt. She breaks the buckle in her haste, and feels Klaus’ smile against her skin, “My, my someone’s eager,” he murmurs. “I’m flattered.”

Ugh, Klaus’ ego did _not_ need stroking. “S _omeone_ ,” Caroline bites out, hips rolling in search of more friction, “has made some very big promises that he’s currently not living up to. Excuse me if it’s making me think that I _should_ have finished myself off the other night since _someone_ apparently isn’t all that interested in giving me a hand.”

He bites her earlobe harshly before setting her down, retreating several paces. Caroline whines, and reaches for him, but Klaus shakes his head. The heated glint in his eye makes her think she should have kept her mouth shut. “Klaus, come on,” she groans.

“Stay right there, sweetheart,” he coaxes, scanning the room. Klaus finds an armchair that remains upright, flipping it around and sinking down onto it. He leans back to shove his jeans down enough to free his cock, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly. Caroline clenches her thighs together, biting her lip as she watches.

She knows he’d probably be fucking her now if she’d managed to keep ahold of her tongue. It’s not something she’s ever been particularly good at and she recognized Klaus’ intent. He was set on drawing things out now, making her wait, and while Caroline didn’t precisely _mind_ she saw no need to dig herself in deeper.

This time.

Klaus’ licks his lower lip as he sinks lower in the chair. His next demand is soft, “Take the rest of your clothes off, love. _Slowly_.”

Well, considering how little she was wearing that wouldn’t take long.

The bra, bunched at her waist, falls with a quick flick of her fingers. Caroline leisurely strokes her skin, shoulders pressing into the wall as she arches into her own touch. She watches Klaus watch her, the way his muscles work smoothly as he keeps up his even strokes, her eyes heavy lidded. His palm passes over the head of his cock when she cups her breasts, slicking his next motion. She glides her hands down her sides, tracing the waist of her jeans. Caroline pops the button, tugs the zipper down. Presses her lips together to keep from smiling at Klaus’ quick inhale once he realizes there’s nothing underneath. He doesn’t say anything and she slips her hand inside, voice going high and shaky as she lets her fingers part her slick folds, “I only have the one pair that matches that bra and I didn’t want to risk them getting ruined.”

“Your clothes aren’t off,” he grits out.

Caroline closes her eyes for a moment, her stomach clenching as she strokes her clit, before she reluctantly pulls away to shimmy out of her jeans. She kicks them aside and Klaus beckons her closer. A quick glance down tells her he’s painfully hard, his cock flushed and leaking and she’s optimistic that his control is close to snapping.

He hadn’t come the last time they’d spoken either.

She moves to straddle him but he stops her, his hands firm on her hips. She pouts as he urges her to turn to the side, arranging her across his lap. His cock is hot against her hip, his jeans rough against the back of her thighs. Caroline grips the back of the chair with one hand, the other resting on his chest. She can feel his rapid heart, the slight dampness of his skin, knows he’s every bit as needful as she is. Still he’d unhurried. Klaus nudges her thighs apart, fingers brushing teasingly against her pussy. “Now, I believe you wanted a _hand_?”

She’s close to cursing him, damn the consequences, because she _aches_ , when Klaus fingers turn purposeful. He slicks them in her wetness, easing two inside of her body, and Caroline squirms to encourage him deeper. The heel of his hand settles against her clit as he curls his fingers, just brushing the spot inside of her that leaves her moaning.  Klaus, having spent centuries learning how to play her body, soon has her straining and rocking onto his fingers, her thighs spreading in a silent plea for more. His free hand dives into her hair, tipping her face up, “I _have_ missed you. Let me show you how much, hmm?”

She nods frantically, “Please. Please, I need…”

He shifts her effortlessly, has her back against his chest, her legs propped over the arms of the chair as he sinks inside of her. His hoarse groan is muffled in her hair, “I deeply regret breaking the mirror,” he mutters but Caroline barely hears him as he begins to move. He grabs her hands, setting one between her thighs, the other around his neck. “Play with your clit, Caroline. Come for me.” He grasps her hips and shifts her body along his cock, his feet planted on the floor ensuring each thrust is firm, hitting her deep and _perfect_. She doesn’t have any leverage, can’t do anything but sink into him and absorb the sensations as they work together to get her off.  He groans when her nails break his skin, his motions speeding up and her back bows as her orgasm hits her, his name escaping her in a shout.

His arms band around her as he stiffens, she writhes as his fangs dig into her neck, the bite of pain sending her spiraling higher. She comes down slowly, drowsy and replete, as he’s licking the wound lazily. Caroline stretches with a contented noise, pleased to find him still hot and hard inside of her. “Tell me you let the bed live.”

Klaus lifts his wrist to her mouth, a faint tinge of regret in his reply, “Unfortunately, I was dressing when I got the unfortunate news. Drink.”

She knew that meant the bedroom was a total loss. She bites down, takes a few mouthfuls, stops when she feels her skin knit back together. She shifts enough to look at him, “Disappointing, but not a disaster. Literally everything manufactured in this century is nicer than that first pallet we shared. Surely there’s a carpet around here somewhere? You can tell me your bad news, I’ll tell you my good news, more sex, and then we’ll plot.”

His lips twitch and his hips give a lazy roll, pulling a moan from Caroline, “In that order?”

It’s a struggle to concentrate enough to think about it, especially when Klaus’ hand lands on her breast, “My good news will keep. Will your bad news?”

He seems to consider it. “I have several hybrids monitoring the situation. But you should know Katerina is making a move. And that the new doppelgänger is proving troublesome.”

Ugh, Caroline should have known. “Petrovas,” she grumbles. “Always a pain in the ass.”

* * *

 

They’d taken to scribbling on the walls, a clear indicator of just how much Caroline loathed this flat.

Once they’d satisfied their most pressing _carnal_ hungers Klaus had sent a hybrid out for food. Before he’d made it to the door Caroline had scampered out, provided a hastily scribbled list of items she’d insisted she’d be needing (all of which, she’d said, could be found at whatever office supply store was closest). By the time they’d been through with their (admittedly prolonged) shower the usable furniture had been gathered up in the living room, most of the debris swept aside, and the things they’d requested neatly laid out.

Caroline had been impressed and Klaus assumed she’d be spending a small fortune on gifts for the hybrids once things calmed down.

They’d dug in and run through the various tasks she’d accomplished. He’d been tense when she’d relayed her confrontation with Katerina in more detail. Caroline was stronger, faster, and didn’t lack in cunning or skill but Katerina Petrova was not someone Klaus underestimated. She’d proven cleverer, and more resilient, than he’d ever expected.

Really, most people would have walked into the sun ages ago rather than live as she did, alone and constantly paranoid. Klaus had no illusions about what fueled her, knew she _hated_ him and lived for the slim possibility of one day exacting revenge for all that he’d done to her. Caroline hadn’t commented on his barely hidden tension, had merely draped her legs over his as she’d gone over the fine details and patiently answered the questions he’d fired at her.

Once satisfied they’d turned to the information the hybrids had dutifully sent along. Much of it had been dull – school records for the doppelgänger and her various friends, copies of their medical records. The police report that laid out the details of her parent’s deaths (‘Oooh, a Forbes!’ Caroline had exclaimed upon seeing the scrawled signature. ‘Of course my bajillionth cousin would be _awesome_.’). They’d then moved on to pouring over the photos, familiarizing themselves with the players, as they debated strategy.

And made lists in various colored sharpie all over the pristine white walls.

Which brought them to their current debate?

“I _hate_ body jumping.”

“Good thing you won’t be the one jumping then, isn’t it?” Klaus remarks lightly.

Her toes jab into his inner thigh, _hard_ , and he squeezes her ankle in warning. He’d expected her indignation, “Why is it automatically you? You’re _terrible_ at blending.”

Only because he so often didn’t see the point. “It’s less conspicuous as you go in as yourself. You look seventeen; can play sweet and innocent and non-threatening. You’re also far more up to date on things the doppelgänger and her friends would be interested in.”

“It’s called pop culture Klaus. And it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

He ignores her. That’s a debate they don’t have time for. “Also, Elijah’s convinced you’re in a coffin so even if he’s mentioned that you exist they won’t expect you to waltz into their history lesson.”

Her lips press together in distaste but Klaus can tell she’s considering it. “ _If_ you jump, who’s your target? The brother? You so can’t pull of sullen stoner slacker.” She squints at him playfully, “Wait, maybe I’m being hasty. You can totally do sullen.”

He traces the bottom of her bare foot, holding her fast when he tries to jerk away with a strangled giggle, “Funny, love. But no, I don’t think the brother is the best choice. Older siblings tend to shield the younger ones. I don’t know how useful young Jeremy would be.”

“One of the vampires? We’d need more witches to pull that off, I think. It takes more magic.” She leans forward, tone growing hard, “If we’re doing that I vote the older brother, _not_ The Ripper, by the way.”

She’s vehement and Klaus isn’t certain why, he flips to the picture again, the only one they have with both Salvatores and the doppelgänger in the same frame. “She doesn’t seem to like the brother much. Certainly doesn’t trust him. And I knew Stefan, once upon a time. Weren’t you worried about my blending?”

Caroline doesn’t react to his teasing. Her smile is a false thing, more teeth than amusement, “Every time I’ve seen a doppelganger with her hands all over you I’ve wanted to _rip_ them off. I couldn’t with Tatia, and I managed to restrain myself with Katerina since she clearly was just not that in to you. If I kill this one, and I might because she seems clingy, that’s literally _centuries_ of planning down the drain.”

He makes a show of studying the file in his hands, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He cannot resist teasing her, sneaking a subtle glance her way. Caroline’s color is high, her eyes ringed in red. She’s slightly frazzled and all the more compelling for it. “A thousand years and you still get jealous?” Klaus remarks, perfectly mild in a manner she’ll find infuriating, “how flattering.”

The quietly muttered string of words that follows is profane, and less than complimentary to his person.

It’s tempting to take it farther, to taunt because she’s lovely when she’s angry. But he _has_ missed her and they have far too little time as it is. Instead he eases them back, “The vampires aren’t an option. We have to do this soon, in the next few days, and we only have two witches who can get there in time that can handle the spell. That’s not enough power to jump into a vampire.”

“Oh? Which two?”

Klaus hides a wince. Perhaps that hadn’t been the best segue. “Maddox is available and nearby. And… Greta Martin.”

Caroline’s eyes flare hot, black veins creeping out before she shakes her head. “Speaking of _hands I want to rip off_.”

“Sweetheart,” Klaus tries to placate.

She cuts him off with a harsh noise. “Um, no. She is _not_ subtle in making fuck me eyes at you. She does it _right_ in front of me _while_ being a dismissive _bitch_. If she wasn’t useful I would have eaten her the first time she worked for us.”

It’s rare that it’s up to Klaus to be the reasonable one. “To be fair, Maddox has expressed similar interests.”

Caroline’s eyes roll, “That’s different. Maddox wants to fuck me too. He’d be fine with just watching us fuck each other and he’s not going to make any moves unless one of us invites him to. Because he’s freaking polite. I’m well aware that people want you, Klaus. It just means they have excellent taste. This isn’t insecurity it’s _annoyance_. Greta’s a groupie. She sees fucking you as a power play and me as an obstacle and she’s arrogant enough to think she’s got a shot.”

“You can eat her once we’ve dealt with Mikael?” Klaus offers.

Caroline reluctantly huffs out a laugh, “I just might, you know.” She curls into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to tell me that I have nothing to worry about?”

“You _know_ you have nothing to worry about.” Klaus counters. “And you do so hate it when I’m patronizing.” Other people came and went from their bed. In the last few centuries they even left alive more often than not, their memories intact. They were enjoyable but always fleeting. Caroline was the constant, the one he watched and reached for and _craved_ even when they had someone new to play with. She knew that, in her bones, the same way he was sure her affections would never split.

She hums in absent agreement, tapping her finger against the photo at the top of the heap. “The teacher? It that your mark?”

“I think so. He has his own place so I don’t have to _blend_ constantly. I’ll have privacy to make calls. I can handle teaching a public school history class easily enough.”

“He’s kind of weird though, isn’t he? What kind of hunter is buddy buddy with a _vampire_?”

Klaus had initially thought the same but was convinced Alaric was the best choice, “I guess that’s what we’ll find out.”

“Guess so,” Caroline echoes. She slips onto his lap, draping her arms over his shoulders, “Take me to bed since you’re insisting we leave at an indecent hour.”

He could point out that it was Caroline who’d insisted that flying commercial would be less conspicuous if someone like Elijah or Katerina had eyes and ears in and around Mystic Falls. He doesn’t because Klaus is far from a stupid man and he’s not about to object to such an order.

* * *

 

Caroline pauses before she walks into the bar, once she catches sight of herself in the windows. She can’t walk in as _herself_ lest she seem too intimidating. If she didn’t blend Klaus would never let her live it down. He hadn’t arrived yet, had texted Caroline to say he was on his way home from class (amidst a highly entertaining string of rants about how terribly irritating and banal the average human teenager was). He’d been wearing the Alaric Saltzman suit for four days and it had become clear that he _hated_ it.

On the bright side Caroline thought the selection had proven to be the best option. She’d been skeptical about just how close Alaric Saltzman could be to a group of teens but, as him, Klaus had been privy to a good deal of useful info. It was also helpful that he was a raging drunk, something Klaus could easily use to his advantage. Any stumbles were easily brushed off, his pressing for information he should have already had shrugged off with minimum fuss. Apparently Katherine had spun some wild tale about how Klaus was evil personified (and okay, fine, some of her stories and corroborating evidence were pretty damning) and would lock Elena into a tiny room and drain her of blood over and over again, between rounds of torture, for the rest of her natural life if he wasn’t stopped.

Which was just silly. Who had the time?

The doppelgänger had a merry (if vastly overconfident) band of protectors and it quickly became obvious that a couple of lies, a little compulsion, wouldn’t work in this case. Katerina was hell bent on making her big move, had managed to sway the Bennett witches to her side, had other witches working on unlinking the sirelines, and was planning on releasing Mikael and sending him at straight to Klaus.

A vampire couldn’t break through the protections placed on the cemetery Mikael had been housed in, something Klaus and Caroline had long since figured out. If it had been so easy they would have taken him out long ago.

However Katherine, damn her to the fiery pits of hell, had managed to figure out a work around and was in the wind, Mikael presumably with her. Best guess was that they were after white oak. It probably wouldn’t kill Klaus (not that they’d ever tested it) but it would work just fine on Caroline. Her death would suit Mikael’s purposes– he’d always wanted Klaus to suffer before he died.

Their time was dwindling and they needed to start pushing back.

That was why Caroline was here. The trust between Katerina and the Salvatore brothers could, according to Klaus’ observations, generously be described as tenuous. She just needed to put a little more pressure on it _and_ she needed to draw Elijah out.

Tonight she was going to do both.

The inevitable confrontation with Elijah was overdue, if Caroline was being honest. It would be a tedious conversation, she really wasn’t looking forward to the sanctimonious lecture about family honor and betrayal that she was sure Elijah has been rehearsing. She probably owed it to him to at least listen to _part_ of it though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to. If he honestly thought Klaus would kill Kol or Bekah or even Finn he hadn’t been paying attention.

Klaus had advocated daggering him, and Caroline had a spare, carefully coated in white ash, in her purse. Just in case he showed up before they were ready for him. It was a last resort because she would really prefer Elijah be swayed to their side. She knew the truth would do the trick, though things would take some time to go back to being cordial. He’d be useful in distracting Katerina.

 Both of the Salvatore’s were seated near the pool tables and Caroline had to admit she was curious about the changes she’d observed in Stefan. She’d known him in Chicago of course, though not as well as either Klaus or Bekah. Rebekah had guarded him jealously, suspicious that she and Klaus would try to lure him away (and they might have, had she not fallen so quickly into infatuation). He seems different now, morose and constantly pained. Dull. It’s a stark contrast to the elder Salvatore, who seems like he’s constantly listening to jokes only he can hear. She’d never come across him before now and, looking at him, she could see why Katerina had chosen to collect the set. He certainly was pretty.

She takes a deep breath as she pulls open the door, keeps her shoulders slightly hunched, and lets her eyes dart around the bar in an approximation of nerves. She takes small hesitant steps, as if she’s afraid she’ll be kicked out. Both of the brothers note her entrance. Stefan’s interest is fleeting, his attention immediately returned to his drink. Caroline would be offended if she didn’t know he had no recollection of ever meeting her. The other one’s eyes stay locked on her, and the look on his face is familiar.

His icy blue eyes are calculating, he’s watching her like she’s prey. He flashes a smile, Caroline’s sure it’s _meant_ to be charming, once she allows herself to hold his eyes. She lets her own gaze flicker away, trying to remember what insecure teenage modesty had felt like. She wishes she could conjure a blush for effect.

She finds a seat at the bar, shrugs out of her coat. Is completely unsurprised when a body immediately settles next to her. She jumps slightly, like she’d been startled, and stammers out a greeting. He offers her a slow, lazy smile that could possibly pass as sexy. If she needed glasses.

His opening line is about as unoriginal as Caroline would have expected, “I haven’t seen you around here. Did you just move to town?”

It’s easy enough to play the sweet, innocent high school transfer, to quietly confess false nerves and giggle abashedly about her hopes about making the cheerleading squad. He eats it up without a hint of unease and Caroline’s certain he’s planning on making her a snack, that he thinks he’s got a clear shot at getting in her pants.

Damon Salvatore might be pretty but he _really_ wasn’t smart.

 

* * *

 

When Klaus catches Caroline leaving from the edge of his peripheral vision he’s relieved. The doppelgänger’s aunt has been making very unsubtle inquiries about his mental state, complaining he’s been distant, wondering if there were problems at work, getting quite irritated as Klaus provided short answers while he strained to hear what Damon Salvatore was saying to his wife.

Being human was so inconvenient and he was so glad it was temporary.

On the surface Caroline looks interested, leaning in slightly, nodding and smiling and managing to laugh at whatever jokes (and from what Klaus has experienced of Damon’s ‘wit’ he has no trouble imagining they’re unimpressive, likely even offensive) she’s subjected to. Klaus can see how she really feels. She’s clutching her glass like it’s a lifeline, her shoulders sit too high and the pitch of her voice is brittle and falsely cheery.

She finds the man repulsive, a sentiment Klaus agrees with.

She leaves the bar without looking back and Damon compels the bartender to forget his tab before following her out. Klaus takes the opportunity to extricate himself, informing Jenna that he had something urgent to discuss with Damon. She protests but he ignores her, her angry words easily lost in the din of the bar.

He wonders vaguely if she’ll be sympathetic later. He’s gotten the impression that she’s not fully in the loop, he’s not certain if a confession of body snatching will be offered or if Alaric will chalk his odd behavior up to something else.

Not that Klaus particularly cares.

He spots the back of Damon, sees him turn the corner, and quickens his pace to catch up. The scene he finds when he rounds it has his fist clenching. Damon’s got a tight grip on Caroline’s chin, his body caging her against the brick wall.

Caroline’s eyes flit to his, her expression blank though Klaus detects the kindling anger. “Can I be threatening now?” she asks.

Damon sputters something about how she shouldn’t be talking that Klaus barely hears. “Please do, love.”

For a moment Damon looks confused but then Caroline whirls into action. She moves quickly, wrenching Damon’s hand from her face before she reverses their positions. A few cracks appear in the wall upon impact and Damon howls in pain. The sound is quickly cut off by Caroline’s firm grip on his throat. She leans in, a smile curling her glossy lips. “Shhh,” she croons, dark and mocking, “Don’t move and don’t make a sound until I say you can scream for me.”

Damon ceases struggling as the compulsion takes hold, though his eyes remain frantic and panic filled. He looks to Klaus pleadingly, and Klaus merely offers a shrug. Caroline wipes her hands on the skirt of her dress as she steps back, “Ugh, I feel slimy. He tried to _compel_ me. Which vital organ should I rip out first?”

As much as Klaus would enjoy watching her get her hands bloody - _too_ much considering his current inability to do much about it - they have a few seeds of discord to sow first. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves before we get to torture, hmm?”

“I suppose,” Caroline sighs. “Though why _I_ have to be mannerly when dealing with man-shaped _garbage_ I don’t know.” She offers Damon a sharp smile, “I’m Caroline. Perhaps Elijah mentioned me?”

He remains silent and Klaus casts Caroline a pointed gaze. She shakes herself, catching Damon’s gaze to adjust the compulsion. “Oh! Right. You may speak to answer direct questions.” She pulls back, her next words are more of a threat, “Quietly and _respectfully_ if you know what’s good for you. You seem like a guy who needs his liver and those are kind of a pain to grow back.”

Damon Salvatore is the foolish sort, doesn’t heed Caroline’s warning. “Bitch,” he spits out. “When I get…” He doesn’t manage to finish whatever ill-conceived ultimatum he’s been formulating, only managing a wet gurgle of sound once Caroline digs into his stomach.

“You really should learn to talk less,” she tells him snidely, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “It would really help you, I think. I mean, I _thought_ I saw the appeal. I get why Katerina turned Stefan. She knew it would piss us off, plus he was a perfect copy of the first man she got the tingles for. That guy wouldn’t leave his wife for her, she wanted to try again. Totally twisted, but understandable, right?”

Damon sucks in a harsh gasp, “What are you…”

Caroline must squeeze something because he wheezes, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. “Shush, I’m speechifying. It’s my right as the bad guy. Anyway, at first I wondered why bother with the brother. I won’t claim to know Katerina all that well, I spent a couple weeks pretending to be her maid but she thought she was way too good to treat me like a person.  But she just strikes me as the kind of girl who needs a fair amount of attention.”

Klaus is unable to stop the faint noise of amusement he makes. Caroline hears and luckily the glare she tosses his way is playful. “Yes, I know. Glass houses. I’m not going to apologize for thinking I deserve to be a priority. I’m delightful.”

“You certainly are,” Klaus agrees.

“And besides, my husband isn’t exactly low maintenance.”

Once again, Klaus finds himself laughing. He does enjoy watching Caroline have fun. Damon Salvatore’s naked bewilderment is quite a sight as well. “No, he is not that.”

Damon grunts, opens his mouth, though he doesn’t manage any words. Caroline’s free hand taps Damon’s cheek, grinding the back of his head into the brick for a moment. “I’ve imagined you’ve compelled plenty of people. You should know how it works. No one asked you a question so you get to listen. I imagine that’s tough for you given how much you enjoy the sound of your own voice.”

Klaus assumes Damon thinks the way he’s looking at Caroline as if he’s plotting her death is intimidating. Caroline seems to scarcely notice. “Anyway, where was I?”

“You were attempting to parse Katerina’s twisted thought processes. But may I suggest we move along?”

“I suppose. It’s not like she’s going to matter much longer, right?”

Damon’s head snaps up but Caroline slaps her hand over his mouth, “Whoops. That wasn’t a question for you. Now, I believe we were talking about Elijah. And if he’s ever mentioned me. He usually calls me Miss Forbes these days. Because he’s insufferable. Ring any bells?”

“Never hear of you,” Damon wheezes. “But I’m not surprised a blonde who talks too much doesn’t merit a mention in important conversations.”

Klaus cannot help the sympathetic wince he makes when Caroline’s knee connects firmly with Damon’s balls. Damon sags against the wall and Caroline appears livid. He needs her to focus and so he attempts to offer an explanation. “Perhaps Elijah was just trying to protect you, sweetheart? After all, it’s not _you_ he wishes to see punished.”

She seems to begrudgingly accept that. “Still. _Rude_.”

“I look forward to seeing you chastise him,” Klaus gestures to Damon. “If I may interject?”

She obligingly adds another order to her compulsion, “Answer his questions.” She steps back, her hand leaving Damon’s body with a squish and a short rush of blood. She attempts to shake the blood from her fingers. “I should have stolen some napkins.”

Klaus retrieves a handkerchief, offers it to her as he steps closer, “When did you last have contact with Elijah?”

Damon scoffs, “You know he hasn’t been answering my calls, Ric. Why are you with this…”

Caroline cuts him off before he can rasp out any unfortunate insults, her frustration building. “ _How_ can you be this unobservant? Are you _that_ terrible of a friend in addition to being a cretin?”

“Some friend,” Damon mutters. “I don’t know who you are Blondie but you’re _not_ friendly. Alaric seems to be working with you and for all I know _you’re_ working with Klaus.”

“Ding ding ding!” Caroline exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “ _Finally_ we’re getting to the good stuff. Though I deeply resent the implication that I’m some kind of minion.”

Damon doesn’t reply, unable to since Caroline had not given him the opportunity by phrasing her words as a question. The derisive way his eyes run over to her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, her thighs beneath the hem of her skirt, is speaking, giving an insight into exactly how little he thinks of Caroline’s possible skills. You’d think a man familiar with Katerina Petrova would have learned to be wary of the danger a pretty outer shell can hide. Klaus snaps his fingers, demanding Damon’s wandering attention. “She’s _definitely_ not a minion. What did Elijah tell you of Klaus?”

“Not much. He’s a threat, but we already knew that.”

Ah. Klaus realizes he’s been asking the wrong question. “What did _Katerina_ tell you about Klaus?”

Damon struggles, biting his lip, drawing blood, as he fights not to answer. It’s a futile attempt, compulsion always wins, “That he’s coming to take Elena. That he’ll raze the town to the ground and everything in it to get to her. That 500 years ago he did it with her family first. And that with Elena’s blood he’ll become too powerful to stop so we have to take a shot _now_.”

“Bullshit premise with hints of truth in the supporting arguments. She’s the worst but you can’t fault her strategy,” Caroline muses.

“Sometimes I deeply regret not bothering to kill her.”

Damon’s head jerks up again, his bloodied face twisted in confusion. Klaus grins, clasps his hands behind his back. “It seems _I’ve_ been remiss about introductions, haven’t I?”

“Alaric?” Damon says, hesitant and uncertain.

“No. Thankfully. Alaric Saltzman’s life is…” Klaus trails off, makes a show of considering. He leans in conspiratorially, “You know, I can’t quite find an adjective that would properly express the true depths of my distaste. Suffice it to say I’ve barely managed to survive the last few days. I can’t imagine suffering through another three to five decades of whiny hormonal children with only the cheapest of bourbon to numb the pain. Luckily, I won’t have to. Some witch associates shall have me back in my rightful body by midnight.”

“Maddox texted me fifteen minutes ago,” Caroline interjects. “They’re ready when we are.”

“Lovely, I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I’d be lying. Shall we go, love?”

He hears the unmistakable sound of twisting metal, and turns to see Caroline with a trash can lid in her hand. She’s molding it into a serviceable stake and she smirks when she catches him watching. “Would you grab his phone for me? If I have to put my hands in his pockets I might actually vomit for the first time in a millennium.”

Klaus does as she’s asked, as any gentleman would, moving aside so she can deal with Damon once more. Her eyes dilate and Damon’s face twists in anger as she prepares to compel him again. “Yeah, this sucks, doesn’t it? You should probably be more diligent with the vervain. Or didn’t Elijah mention that vampires can be compelled by Originals?”

Damon scoffs, “You said your name was Caroline. Elijah only has one sister.”

“Only one sister by blood. That’s Rebekah, who I’m sure he told you about. One by marriage. That’s me. Or two, I guess. If we’re counting Sage.”

“Which I do not,” Klaus mutters.

The look Caroline tosses him is mildly annoyed. “Really? Is this the time?”

“I suppose not.”

“Thank you.” Damon’s still watching them, his mystification having only grown. “What’s your passcode?” Caroline demands.

“2 2 0 6,” he rattles off.

Caroline works quickly, unlocking the phone and setting two alarms. “Sit,” she bites out, and Damon immediately sinks to the ground. Caroline crouches until she’s at eye level, careful not to touch him. “You can move when the first alarm goes off. Then you’re going to stab yourself with this,” she hefts the spiral of jagged metal, “until the second one does. If you attempt to alter the alarms in any way I want you to walk to The Falls, take off your daylight ring, and throw it in. Good luck finding it before the sun rises! And also, while you’re at it you should probably think about what a despicable excuse for a vampire you are. You’ve had long enough to develop some kind of charm, haven’t you? Maybe try to deploy some the next time you want to get laid.” Her features harden, her tone turning arctic as her eyes dilate, “If you _ever_ use compulsion to obtain or encourage _any_ sort of sex act you’re to _immediately_ rip off your favorite appendage. And then again, once it grows back. Just to make sure you’ve learned the lesson.”

Caroline sets the phone and the stake aside, in easy reaching distance. She accepts the hand Klaus offers to help her rise. “Did you have anything you wanted to add?”

“Just that he should probably consider asking Elijah about the _other_ doppelgängers. Really, there’s no need for anyone to live in a cage, not when a bit of blood can be safely taken and transported anywhere in the world. There are doppelgängers who’ve lived perfectly tedious, mostly unmolested, human lives of above average length. If you really think about it, really _strain_ your mental capacities, if shouldn’t surprise you that Katerina’s been telling tales for her own benefit. She’s used you before, hasn’t she? Why ever would you think she wouldn’t again?”

Damon’s breathing shallowly, glaring up at them resentfully. “But there’s no need to take my word for it,” Klaus continues lightly. “Not when you can ask the honorable brother. Tell him Klaus is in town. I’m sure he’ll remember your number post haste.”

Caroline links her arm through his and together they retreat. She bumps her shoulder into his, more delicately than she actually _needs_ to, something that chafes at Klaus a bit, particularly when she shoots him a worried glance immediately after. They’ve not spent much time together but when they have she’s been unable to keep from hovering, inquiring about whether he was cold of hungry.  He’s aware that she means well but Klaus has no desire to be coddled.

“I think that went well,” Klaus remarks before she can think to apologize for possibly hurting him.

Caroline hums in agreement, “We’re a good team.”

“It’s rare you get to play the bad cop. I know you enjoy it.”

“Almost as much as I like watching _you_ do it.”

He sneaks a look at her, catches her with her lip between her teeth, a telltale flush painting her cheeks pink. Klaus watches with great interest the hints of struggle flitting across her face. If he was in his own body right now he’s quite certain Caroline would already be pressed against him. She clears her throat, attempts a little levity, “It would have been so much hotter if you didn’t smell like cheap bourbon and chalk dust right now. We could have showed Damon Salvatore what good alley sex looks like because I’m pretty certain whoever he usually lures out behind The Grille does not actually get off.”

He eases her closer, “The night is young, love. He’ll be there for a while.”

Caroline throws her head back and laughs brightly, “Tempting, but no. I have plans for you. Plans that involve a bed.”

Klaus walks faster, Caroline easily keeping pace. Far be it for him to thwart her plans.

 

* * *

 

When Klaus steps out of the box his body’s been resting in Caroline smiles in satisfaction, and a tiny bit in relief. It’s an expression that’s so unequivocally him, she instantly knows that nothing’s gone amiss with the spell.

Body jumping isn’t a regular occurrence but she hadn’t been kidding about hating it. Talking to him when he wore someone else’s face was always off, his expressions and mannerisms familiar but the slightest bit _wrong_. She’d missed the pitch of his voice, the scent of his skin, and a million other things even though he’d technically been with her this whole time. A jump, short as it had been, coming right on the heels of their longest separation in twenty years means that Caroline is more than a little eager for some quality _alone_ time.

Their interlude in New York had been far too brief.

 His eyes immediately land on her. It’s one of her favorite looks, the blue of his eyes having deepened with his obvious desire.  He smiles, small and private, and Caroline’s going to need him naked _soon_.

Greta starts to say something but Klaus’ hand lifts and she obediently falls silent. There’s little warmth in his tone and his eyes don’t leave Caroline. “Leave. Take the teacher with you. Dump him on the doppelgänger’s lawn. Your payment will be prompt and we’ll call you when you’re needed again.”

Maddox offers a soft thank you; Greta’s silent but chooses to direct a poisonous glance in Caroline’s direction.

It’s a pity she was _still_ useful and that Caroline had fed so recently.

Just to be contrary she pastes on her sweetest smile as she ushers them towards the door, “Thank you both so much!” she gushes. “We really couldn’t have done it without you.”

Maddox is supporting most of Alaric Saltzman’s weight and Caroline thinks she detects a faint air of amusement, further cementing him in her mind as someone she actually likes. Greta’s muttered reply is less than gracious but they door’s shut behind them before she can really get annoyed about it.

It’s not like Greta was making her way off Caroline’s shit list any time soon. Or ever.

She’d shed her cardigan and shoes while the witches had been occupied with their candles and chanting and it’s easy enough to slip the spaghetti straps of her sweet little floral number off, shimmying the fabric down when it catches at her hips. The lingerie underneath is pale pink, would be demure if it wasn’t so sheer, and Klaus’ eyes drift over it appreciatively as she pads over to him, swaying her hips seductively. Her hands go directly to the buttons on his shirt, swiftly making her way down and pushing it off his shoulders. She steps into him with a contented hum, trailing her hands over his back. “It’s only been a few days,” Klaus chides her, even as his hands come up to sift through her hair.

“Like you didn’t know I married you for your hot body,” Caroline jokes, brushing her lips over his collarbone. Klaus doesn’t take the bait, uses his grip on her hair to tug her mouth to his.  He kisses her roughly; hot possessive swipes of his tongue that soon have her panting. He makes it difficult to think but Caroline manages to steer him towards where she knows the bedroom is, walking him back in faltering steps. She traces every bit of bare skin with her hands, relearning the planes and angles, finding all the spots that make him clench and shudder.

He sits on the bed when they hit it but Caroline resists the urging of his hands, kneeling when he would have pulled her into his lap. Klaus doesn’t object when she whips his belt out of the loops of his jeans, leans back to help her rid him of his pants and boxer briefs, along with his shoes and socks. He’s already hard and Caroline rakes her nails up his thighs, runs her tongue along one of the angry red lines left behind until it fades.

“Was this your plan?” Klaus asks, the attempted nonchalance ruined by the grit in the question. “Have you been thinking about touching me, tasting me, while I’ve been trapped in that miserable waste of human flesh?”

Caroline licks her lips before taking him in her hand, relishing the tensing of his abs. She leans in to suck the bead of precum from the head of his cock, moaning a little once she tastes him. A noise of protest spills from him when she pulls back with nothing but a few lazy swirls of her tongue. “Do you not like my plan?” she asks him, widening her eyes and batting her lashes tauntingly.

His smile is slow, “I like all your plans. Might I offer a suggestion?”

“Please.”

“Lose those pretty bits of lace, love. I suspect you’ll be cross if I rip them later.”

Probably, Caroline could admit. She did rather like them. It takes her only a moment to wriggle out of the panties and unclip the bra. Klaus reaches down to toy with her nipple. “Good girl,” he praises and Caroline’s body heats further, skin prickling in anticipation. “Now, spread your thighs for me. Let me see how wet you are.”

She swallows a moan, shifting into the position she knows he wants her in without further prompting. Another low noise rumbles through him, and she wishes he was closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “And you’re mine.”

She moves to take him in her mouth again but he pinches her nipple, his other hand threading into her hair. “Klaus,” she whines. She’s soaked, her clit throbbing with a demand for attention. Attention she’s certain Klaus is going to make her work for. She shivers when he tugs at her nipple, gentler this time, her hips shifting restlessly in response. “Is this alright, love?” he asks, raising a brow in question. She bites her lip, considering. Does she _want_ him to take over? Or did she want to go with her initial plan, teasing him with her hands and mouth until he was a sweaty mess only capable of uttering her name?

Or maybe she should just do both. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d reaped the benefits of vampire-hybrid stamina.

She meets his eyes, “This is good,” she rasps. “For now.”

His eyes flash yellow, and he tugs faintly on her hair. Caroline’s lips part around a gasp. “You know what to say if it’s not good.”

She nods in acknowledgment and Klaus brushes his lips over her forehead before glancing back down. “Do you want to touch yourself, Caroline? “he asks conversationally.

She nods, because of course she does.

His foot nudges her knee, widening her stance until she feels the stretch. “Can you keep them there for me, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes intent on her face. Caroline nods once more, letting her weight settle into a more comfortable position. “Give me your hand,” Klaus says.

She lifts it immediately, swallowing harshly when he sucks the ring finger of her left hand into the heat of his mouth.

“You may use this finger,” he tells her. “Just the one, and you may _not_ put it inside you.”

They both know that’s won’t be enough to make her come but Caroline’s never been one to back down from a challenge. She begins to rub circles over her clit, her finger slickened by Klaus’ mouth, rocking her hips in time to her motions.

 “Perhaps we should have gone to your hotel,” Klaus murmurs quietly. “I’m sure you packed a toy or two that would offer you some relief, hmm? I do so like to watch you writhe while my cock’s in your mouth.”

Caroline’s eyelids droop as tension builds too slowly. It’s a frustrating tease, her inner muscles clamping down. Klaus seems to be waiting for something and she belatedly remembers his question, “I did. All my favorites.”

“Have you been using them?” Klaus asks.

“Every night.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought that would be kind of unfair. I can’t imagine that you were enjoying that body all that much.”

Klaus’ head tips, conceding her point. “So what you’re really saying is that _you’ve_ been coming and I haven’t been. Perhaps you’d like to make that up to me?”

She lowers her head once more and this time Klaus doesn’t stop her. She uses her free hand to push his cock against his stomach, licking along the underside before swiping her tongue over his balls. His grip on her hair tightens briefly, a hint he’s not in the mood to be teased. She sucks him deep when he presses the head of his cock against her lips, using just the barest hint of teeth. She hollows her cheeks when she pulls back, lifts off enough to rub her tongue over the underside of the head. Klaus uses his grip on her hair to set fast pace, rough words of praise falling from his mouth as he begins to tense.

She can tell when he’s close, can read the signs like they were in neon flashing lights. His hips begin to jerk, and she cups his balls, rolls them in her palm as he spills with a shout. She slows then, sucking leisurely to clean him off, licking her lips once she’s done.

She presses a kiss to his thigh. “Do you want to go again?” she asks impishly. “Since you’ve suffered so greatly.”

Klaus teeth flash white and he yanks her up. She finds her chest pressed to the mattress, Klaus hot against her back. He pins her hands and she can feel his cock reawakening against her ass. She tips her hips upward in the hopes that he’ll press it into her. Klaus uses the angle to slip his hand between her thighs, curls his fingers inside of her as he nips at the back of her neck.  “We have all night. I certainly wouldn’t say no to your lips around my cock again. But first I want to fuck you. And then I’m going to return the favor and lick you until you’re hoarse. If you’re a good girl then we’ll go to fetch your toys. I’m sure they’ll prove inspirational.”

She moans something that Klaus must take as an agreement, slipping inside of her and setting a frantic pace.

She’s still awake when the sun rises and for once doesn’t find it in her to complain about how much she hates mornings.

 

 

* * *

 

Caroline had taken Klaus’ hand as they stroll towards the Salvatore Boardinghouse, though she’s mostly been quiet. She’s been humming off and on, since they’d dragged themselves out of bed in search of blood, coffee and pastries. If you didn’t know her you’d think she was lost in her own thoughts, might think her pretty but you wouldn’t think her dangerous. Klaus _does_ know her and he isn’t surprised when she points at sleek, brand new, luxury sedan without a spec of dirt on it amongst the cars lining the drive, “That one just screams Elijah, doesn’t it?”

“I’m told he touched down at the Richmond airport late last night.”

She elbows him sharply, “And you didn’t tell me?”

Klaus shifts so he’s behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling them to a stop, just at the base of the steps. “You passed out after your, what was it, eighth orgasm? I took the opportunity to check my phone.”

Caroline grumbles a frankly ridiculous denial of having passed out.

He kisses her neck and she’s not disgruntled enough to stop herself from tipping her head to the side and giving him more room. “You were out cold, love,” he presses. “Admit it.”

Caroline remains stubborn, “Never.”

Klaus sighs like he’s disappointed, “I suppose I’ll just have to try again. Perhaps film it, hmm? You do like to watch, I know.”

Whatever retort she’s about to make dies when Elijah throws open the front door. He eyes them with exasperation, perhaps a small hint of fondness. “You’re aware that you can be heard?”

Caroline smiles mischievously, pressing back into him, “Can we? Good thing we’re kinda into exhibitionism too.”

Elijah’s eyes close briefly and if he were a religious man he’d likely have looked heavenward. He doesn’t comment, well aware that calling Caroline crass will only encourage her. He flicks a brief glance over Klaus, who remains silent. Watchful. It’s been years since he’s trusted Elijah properly. He’s not entirely certain how anymore.

Perhaps reading something of his thoughts in Klaus’ posture he continues speaking to Caroline, softer now. “The photo you sent me this morning leads me to believe we have pressing matters to discuss. That I might have gotten a thing or two wrong.”

Caroline gasps theatrically, a hand coming to rest over her heart, “Elijah Mikaelson, admitting he might be _wrong_? As I live and breathe.”

Klaus squeezes her hip, stepping around her. Elijah seems genuine, but he keeps his body between his brother and Caroline just in case. “Kol, Bekah and Finn are all safely stored away,” he admits. “I’d be open to discussing un-daggering them. Eventually.”

Elijah knows him well enough to hear the unspoken caveat, “If?” he prompts.

“If Mikael is dealt with. Permanently. Will you help us with that?”

Elijah takes a long moment, but Klaus had expected that. Blind agreement was not in the cards. “What of the doppelgänger?”

“She can stay in Mystic Falls, leave as she pleases, so long as she makes a blood donation every 4 to 5 months.”

“Which is perfectly safe according to most reputable blood banks!” Caroline chirps.

“Draining her all at once would be a waste; it’ll take time to even find that many werewolves and I’d rather not risk freezing the blood. And why in the world would I want to cart her around with me?”

“Have you met her? She’s a charming girl.”

Klaus isn’t sure if Elijah registers the snort of disbelief Caroline makes but he takes a small step back, reaching behind him to touch her. “I’ve learned my lessons about doppelgängers. They’re not worth the trouble. I’m surprised you haven’t, especially considering what Katerina’s been up to.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow, “And what would that be?”

Funny, he’d have thought Elijah kept eyes on her. “She’s got father’s body. I’m not sure if he’s up and about yet but I’m sure it won’t be long. If he doesn’t drain her until she desiccates I’m sure you’ll have an interesting reunion to look forward to.

He watches his brother’s jaw clench, marks the agitation in his movements as he straightens his suit. “If you attempt something underhanded with Elena, Niklaus…”

Caroline makes a noise of impatience, “Vengeance, doom, etc. etc. Can we go inside? I want to see if Salvatore the Elder’s still stabbing himself. I kinda just let the wheel on the timer spin, left it up to chance.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, breezing through the front door calling, “Yoo hoo, Damon! Remember me?”

Elijah watches her go with something like surprise, “He tried to compel her,” Klaus explains. “Caroline holds a grudge and doesn’t mind being rude to people who deserve it.”

“I remember. One of the many things you have in common,” Elijah remarks, a faint smile lightening his features. “It’s probably a good thing you found one another when you were human. I shudder to think how much more volatile you might have been had you not.” He hesitates before he turns, reaches out to clap Klaus’ shoulder. “It is good to see you, Niklaus. You and Caroline both.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply and Klaus follows Elijah in, straightening his spine as he prepares to get his first in person glimpse of the newest doppelgänger. This one seemed different, from what he’d seen of the photos. Softer. He can hear Caroline complimenting the Bennett witch’s earrings, recognizes the warmth and faint hint of calculation in her tone, and he shakes his head in amusement. She’d been less than pleased earlier in the morning to find that Greta had texted him a personal thank. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gotten it into her mind to court a backup witch despite the unlikelihood of a Bennett throwing their lot in with the likes of him.

If there was anyone could manage such a feat it was Caroline.

 


End file.
